I'm back from my holiday......and boy did I need it! I've returned to the same shambolic work chaos that I left of course, but sod that for now.
We flew from diddy Norwich Airport... on a plane that had propellers! Yikes. I boarded with some trepidation and also noticed that it had no smoking signs, clearly implying that you could smoke when the plane was built. Blimey, I wouldn't buy a car that old. Anyway, the flight to Edinburgh passed without further incident......by the time you had gawped at the air hostess wriggling in and out of her lifejacket (and imagined her stripping off completely) you were virtually there.
Edinburgh itself was lovely. They have wheelie bins in a beautiful shade of forest green, not horrid grey ones, and architecturally everything is made of stone, even the poor bits....there wasn't a single red brick in sight. If I was Prime Minister, after banishing war, poverty and disease from the planet, I would outlaw the hideous red brick ......
I've long wanted to visit Edinburgh as my family were from there....a sort of rite of passage if you like. According to family legend, they were incredibly posh and rich, and there's even a street named after them near the castle, which I found. Tragically, some fast-living black sheep of a  forebear blew the whole fortune a couple of generations before I appeared, and the family were forced to de-camp to Ilford of all places!
Oh well, you win some, you lose some.....It's a shame as I would have made an excellent eminent Victorian. As it was, I had to  mingle with the Proletariat and tour the city by bus.......
One bus ride took us to Roslyn Chapel, which to me was just a nice ruin, but to the rest of the planet is, of course, something to do with the Da Vinci code????? I was mildly alarmed to see the bus full of ...erm, how shall I put it?.....f*cking weirdos making some sort of pilgrimage to a holy grail. The fact that I was wearing an anorak and looked like I was one of THEM didn't exactly lighten my embarrassment......I nearly stayed on the bus for an extra stop just so everyone knew that I wasn't a total loonytune.... but there wasn't another bus for an hour. I got my own back by joining a queue of prepaid "trail hunters" thereby avoiding the £7.50 entrance fee....the anorak had virtually paid for itself!
The next day I sought out my own personal Holy Grail....the first tee at St. Andrews....and no doubt I looked just as awestruck as the Da Vinci gang.
I would thoroughly recommend a trip to Edinburgh. Although the vibe of the city is much the same as any other city that has been...or is applying to be....the European City of Culture, i.e you could be anywhere, it's worth going for the buildings.....especially on MY street...he he.

January was pants wasn't it. However, on the glorious first of Feb it snowed overnight....quite a bit. At 6am I was wandering around the icy countryside armed with a flask of hot chocolate.....occasionally chasing after a flock of long-tailed tits. On arriving home, Amazon delivered my new scalextric. A perfect morning.

OK...here's a good 'un...
I've been working feverishly recently, so I could take the rest of the week off for a golfing holiday on the north Norfolk coast. I booked a country hotel where, funnily enough, Sir Arthur Conan-Doyle started work on The Hound Of The Baskervilles whilst on a similar holiday. I was excited. My hols start exactly now....hurrah....Except, 15 mins ago my mobile went and the following bizarre conversation took place...
Receptionist (somewhat stressed): Hullo, is that Mr Toby?
Me (whilst a learner is doing 70mph): Yep, sort of.
Rec: I'm afraid we've cancelled your holiday. The sauna exploded and the hotel burnt down this morning.
Me: Fuck!
Rec: Yeah...that's what we said.
Me (getting my priorities straight): Is the golf course OK?
Rec: Er, yeah...it didn't burn down. You can play whenever for free....sorry about this.
Me: OK, thanks....Bye.

OK, so now I'm gonna Google for England, and find somewhere...anywhere....to have a well-earned break. Phew.

I just saw CONTROL......months after everyone else of course. It was brill, especially the live scenes....even the cymbals were in the correct positions, (sorry, sad fact!). I thought the film was pretty inspirational, and made me pleased that I had spent much of my life in smelly studios with good people. I was led to believe that Ian Curtis was, pardon the phrase, significantly "madder" than the film portrayed....but in the end it was a simple love story (admittedly complicated by health issues) which made it even sadder.
I was too young for Joy Division...let's face it, I was too young for most decent bands....and they wouldn't rank in my top faves from the late 70's, but Transmission is a great song...a bit like Teenage Kicks' moody little brother. I know that Joy Division are seen as the Holy Grail of seminal bands, but hey, it's personal taste isn't it? Maybe all the Goths wearing the T-shirts in the 80's put me off.  Whether the band are the missing link between The Beatles and Nirvana is open to debate.....but they were certainly influential....maybe the link between The Beatles and the shameless Franz Ferdinand.....he he. 

I just put up some shelves and, for the first time ever in my whole life it went really well. No extra holes, no wobbly screws, no crumbly plaster and, most importantly, no apparent possibility of them falling down before this evening. They are even 99.9 % mathematically level. Sorry to bother you with this domestic trivia but I feel like I've just split the atom...and now I need a lie down.

P.S  Baked Potatoes and fireworks in my garden tonight....excellent! It says on the fireworks box that I should stand 25 metres away after lighting them.....as my garden is about one metre square, I might see you soon... or I might not.

Grannybum contemplates the future. 10.50 Sat morning.

There's a brill new thing in The Guardian about great London buildings. This week was a 6 page spread (count 'em!) on Arnos Grove Tube Station....including a full colour poster which has,oddly enough,  found it's way onto my spare bedroom wall. Excellent. Next week is the new Wembley Station..........NOT.

I've never thought of myself as kinky in any way, quite the opposite in-fact....good old British reserve and stiff upper lip is unfortunately my style!! However, there is something about a French accent that can set the pulse racing. Therefore you can imagine my glee when the annual French market rolled into town. There I was ambling through the market place, only to see the whole place festooned in the Tricouleur and reeking of bon-bons. No doubt French markets are common but this is a good 'un. It's not "Engleesh roast beef" types peddling statues of the Eiffel Tower.....no,no this is real Frenchies, driving real French cars with real French number plates all the way from real France, to sell us country bods real baguettes....Hurrah!  I bought a pot of Dijon mustard from a girl with an Ooo-la-la factor of a million....To hear her say "Merci" was worth every penny...or Franc....or Euro.
Another Norwich tradition is the Sausage and Beer Festival....pretty much every pub has one.  I've never been that fussed about Real Ale, whether Camra approve of it or not....but I like a good sausage!..(blimey, maybe I am kinky). The best thing about the beers is their amusing names. They are always called something romantic like "Foxton's Silver Bullet" or the "Vicar's Rusty Trumpet"..........some names however are less appealing.....I don't think I will be sampling a flagon of " Merry Weasel's Scroat" any time soon......lets hope they don't put THAT in the sausages......

'Tis the season to indulge in the ancient art of "Leaf-Kicking"......a noble and traditional pursuit, in my household anyway. Go to a park, find a pile of crispy brown Autumn leaves...and belt them. It's enormous fun...honest. I love this time of year, especially like today, when the air is nippy and fresh, and the sun peeps out. I think it reminds me of the excitement of returning to Uni. I have an empathy with the academic year.....like October is the start of something rather than just nearly the end of the year. Conversely, January always seems to signal the end of something.....Christmas probably....and gives me the blues. Maybe I should have been a University lecturer, the type that wears a battered corduroy jacket with some aplomb, holds drinks evenings and pretends to flirt with the new girls.........Yeah!.....Damn.

OK...and my next new pupil with a funny name is...Miss Gemma Savory. But is she?....all will be revealed.

I'm going on a cruise which stops at Monte Carlo, which sounds quite glam. The ships slogan is "Cruises for people that don't do cruises"....which sounds suspiciously like Lower The Tones "club for people that don't like clubs"......I fully expect to get sweets on arrival, see naughty things in the toilets and perhaps see Grannybum doing the disco.....( the last one wouldn't surprise me!).
I'm glad that Charlestons visit to Kos was a success. I've been before, and it apparently remains unspoilt....which must be something of a record for dear old Planet Earth.
I went to see Andy Parsons at The Playhouse on Saturday. He was brill as ever. I don't know what he made of the sedate Norwich audience, but he said "fuck" a lot...which caused consternation in the sixth row. I laughed obviously.
My desperate need for a holiday is manifesting itself in booking lots of country hotels on Saturday nights ....you can find me snoozing at any hotel with a roaring fire and a good selection of easy chairs throughout December.

Something to pass the time of a Sunday...a gambling conundrum.
Imagine a game show, you are the contestant, I am the host. I offer you 3 identical boxes to choose from, one of which has a trillion pounds in, the other two are empty and I know the answer. You pick one. I discard one of the others that I know to be empty. We are left with two boxes. I offer you a swap. Do you swap? Not swap? It makes no difference? Why?
P.S Just for fun....Gambling is pure evil kids.

Sorry to bang on about Norwich all the time, but I've just found out that Suzi Quattro lives here......how effing cool is that!

PS...Go to Sainsburys immediately and by half-price Carte D'Or ice cream........LATTE FLAVOUR!.......COME ON!

On Saturday I went to the beach to see the seals and then climbed this windmill...which is haunted..ooh.
The late summer weather is indeed nice, but Old Mother Nature is getting on a bit now and should collect her bus pass immediately. Like most old people she is very forgetful...we should have had a real summer first my dear.
Thanks to anyone that got me Habitat vouchers. I got silky burgundy bedroom curtains....shame I'm married!

I just did a lesson with the curiously named Mr. Sean Kindlysides. Great name but his life must be hell !

It's the anniversary of 9/11 and everyone will remember where they were. Whenever a big news story breaks I have usually been free and able to watch events unfold. I watched when the Gulf War started and when Diana died, I was even off school with a cold when the Falklands war began. For 9/11 however, I was working for JJB sports and didn't even find out until 6 in the evening when Grannybum told me outside The Dublin Castle. Such is the nature of retail establishments that, as long as the shelves are dusted nothing else matters... What a place.
Speaking of work, I am now ultra-qualified to teach anyone to drive, whatever the disability. I am the main man...not much of a claim to greatness but the only one I've got! I've got a new car which looks like the inside of a jumbo jet. There are about 6 different buttons to do one thing. A button for someone with no right arm..no left foot and so on. It's very confusing.
Later I shall drive my spaceship to see my Dad in hospital...which will be grim. I shall take lots of talking books...he likes Poirot.
Talking of great detectives, it would appear that they do not really exist. If it wasn't for the discovery of DNA, I doubt whether any crime would ever get solved. I say this because of the revelations in the Maddie case, where little progress was made until some DNA was discovered. Like 9/11, I missed the breaking of this tragic event and as a consequence I feel like I have missed some important facts that everyone else knew. Facts that would explain why Gordon Brown, The President of the USA and the Pope have become involved for example. As it turns out the McCanns are just normal people. Personally, I cannot believe that they are in any way involved....that would just be insane. To have made a mockery of the above great people and to have duped the worlds media so utterly......what punishment could possibly fit the crime? No, it's too fanciful for words....for once the DNA must be wrong.

It would be stretching the truth to describe my work as interesting, but today wasn't too bad. Once again it was good old "spooky" Cromer that provided the excitement. Cromer was bathed in glorious sunshine this morning..because the holiday season is over, obviously. I picked up my disabled boy and off we went up the coast. We arrived at a deserted car park next to a crumbling Victorian railway station. Then, much to our astonishment, a big old and shiny red steam engine rolled up. It was gleaming in the sun and from beneath the curls of steam emerged dozens of people, all dressed up in 1920's gear. Then, into the car park chugged about ten vintage old cars complete with drivers wearing goggles and everything. We appeared to have driven into an P.G Wodehouse story.....I felt criminally under-dressed anyway. I saw one chap taking out a wicker hamper from the back of his Rolls Royce Silver Shadow........I wonder what on earth was going on?
By the time we got back, Cromer had developed one of it's strange weather systems.....thick clouds had rolled in from the sea and were literally at ground level. Unfazed by this freak occurrence ,we drove "through" the clouds knowing that it would be sunny at the other end of the High Street. ......it's weird up here.
    Last night I discovered the Take Five Jazz Cellar in Norwich. I say cellar, although it's more like a sort of dark and sweltering Gothic dungeon...the sort of place where,centuries ago, they used to lock up troublesome monks. It was a bit like being in Prague, or somewhere more glamorous than Norwich anyhow. An old geezer played a vintage Ludwig and, during the interval, went outside to smoke a big curly pipe.....I think that I will have to include him on my all-time odd heroes list, somewhere between Lester Piggott and the "Major" from Fawlty Towers.

I've been a bit of a stress-ball recently...which is less usual than it used to be. I guess the wedding thing got me more wound up than I realized. Lots of minuscule things have been getting on my wick. At least I have identified the situation, and so this morning I decided to have a stress free day. I decided that whatever life chucked at me just to take a deep breath, shrug my shoulders and say "whatever"....this is also a reaction that I am well versed at. I mean, what could possibly go wrong? So anyway, I got up went out the front door and virtually tripped over the rubbish bags that once again the dustmen failed to see....twats. Oops, deep breath.
Then I walked past the car which has been camped outside my house since Sunday, and which I have a gigantic urge to kick. On arriving at my far flung car, it decided not to start. Brilliant...my day was off to a flying start and already I was hyperventilating due to all these deep breaths. During the course of the day I also discovered that banks won't take cheques with my new wifes name on...even if you have her passport, marriage certificate and said "trouble and strife" in tow. To cap it all, the same useless council that forgot to collect my bin-bags,for some inexplicable reason, decided to take the whole years council tax from my account in one fell swoop (rather than a month) virtually bankrupting me.....Hmmm.  However, the most amazing thing is that, I really couldn't give a shit........ my new tactics are working...Hey "whatever".

Here's my Frankenstein Mesh head practice thingy.....quiet as a mouse. NB...bass drum doubles as laundry bin!

So anyway....I got married. It seems ages ago but it was a magical day. The sun came out and the troops from London did me proud. Everything is back to normal now, sort of anti-climatic...but in a good way! Today I shall go to the RSPB reserve at Strumpshaw Fen to see the Kingfishers, before de-camping in The Huntsman Inn for a ploughmans lunch....Yep, normal is OK.